Trancendence
by Grav
Summary: Angel leads the fight as a girl with too many souls struggles to stay alive. Part Four of the Full of Grace cycle. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

AN: I promised this story for Christmas of 2003. I'm a little late. Thank you for your patience. Ironically I have had most of the story, particularly the end, in my head since before I started writing part one. It's funny how those things turn out sometimes…

This is the fourth and final installment of the "Full of Grace" Cycle. The first three stories (Receptacle, Drawn and Wrong Side of the Bed) are on my profile list somewhere in the 80s.

A huge thank you to inlovewithnight, who betaed. Apparently I am allergic to commas and consistent verb tenses. She is awesome.

Disclaimer: Still, if you can imagine it, not mine.

Spoilers: Negligible. This is my AU of Season Three, so I don't really talk about anything else.

Rating: PG-13 (drug use, language, risqué behaviour…)

Summary: Hannah's souls war for possession of her body while Angel and the others rush to find her a cure.

------

Chapter One

_I can feel them inside me, biding their time. They're waiting to be strong enough to overthrow me and fend each other off. The only way to keep them quiet is to take the drug…and by taking the drug, I make them that much stronger._

_Joseph Heller invented the term 'catch-22'. He meant it to refer to war-era pilots, but it is equally applicable to me. Whatever demons stalked through Heller's book, they have nothing on mine. They get louder as they feed. There isn't enough room for all of them and me as well. I need to make them quiet. Making them quiet makes them loud. Catch 22._

_I should tell Wes. But he is smart enough to put the pieces together and cut me off entirely. And that way lies madness of a different nature. They're so strong. If I stop now, they'll take over and I'll be more than lost; I'll be deposed, kept prisoner in my own body. I need more and I can't have it._

_Catch 22._

------

Wesley was in his office, trying to read Cordelia's notes about the mission that she had sent Angel out on this morning. It wasn't easy to concentrate. He had already made himself a cup of tea and read the paper, all the things he liked to do in the morning to get himself focused and ready to deal with the Otherworld, but his mind wandered.

His gaze fell upon the file folder that Fred had left on the edge of his desk two days before. He hadn't had time for more than a cursory read through of her notes, but so far what he learned about the drug they had created for Hannah was not reassuring. Something would have to be done.

Wes heard singing from the lobby and smiled. Lorne had been in a very good mood lately and it was almost impossible not to know why. He watched through the window as the demon filled up the coffee maker and prepared two mugs, hers with cream and his with a generous amount of kahlua, before sitting down to watch it percolate. Lorne looked through the office window to Wes and waved. Wesley tried to smile as he returned the gesture, with limited success.

"You okay in there, boss?" Lorne called out, concerned now.

"Could you come here for a minute, Lorne?" Lorne came into the office and took a seat across from Wesley.

"Have you noticed anything odd about Hannah lately?" Wesley asked, his tone deceptively light.

"Don't try that with me, muffin," Lorne said, leaning forward. "You're practically screaming 'ulterior motive' and you look all kinds of worried."

"All right then." Wesley made eye contact. "Has Hannah been behaving normally? Shaking hands? Blinking a lot? Snapping at you?"

"Not the last one." Lorne sat back again.

"Oh dear." Wes sighed and pinched his nose above his glasses.

"I know I don't like the sound of that."

"It's the drug," Wesley said. "We're still working out the kinks. I'll talk to her and we'll see if we can rework her dosage. We might have to go to two injections a day."

There was a knock on the door of Wesley's office and he called out permission to enter. The door opened to admit Hannah. She crossed the room to sit beside Lorne, automatically taking the hand he held out to her.

"Good morning Wesley," Hannah said. She squeezed Lorne's hand and looked up at him apologetically. "Could you give us a minute? I need to talk to Wes."

"Of course." Lorne was smiling when he said it, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. The look he exchanged with Wesley over Hannah's head was far from reassuring, but he quit the office without further conversation.

"I need more." Hannah cut straight to the chase. There was an air of urgency about her.

"Hannah, I am not sure that's the best solution."

"It's the only solution, Wes. The meditation regime isn't working. I can't keep them quiet any more."

"And the drug is addictive," Wesley shot back. "We still don't know what side effects you'll get and from what Lorne has told me—"

"You've been going behind my back?" Hannah's eyes flashed with anger and a little something more that Wesley couldn't quite put his finger on. "I'm a big girl, Wesley. If you want to know something, just ask me."

"From what Lorne has told me," Wesley continued as through there hadn't been an outburst, "I think I ought to be cutting you back, or even off altogether, not giving you more."

"You can't do that to us!" Hannah leapt up from the chair. "We need it."

Wesley stared at her stonily; as though she was some kind of puzzle he had cracked but hadn't got around to telling her what the answer was yet. He waited until she sat down again.

"We?" he said in a deadly quiet voice.

Hannah's eyes flashed at him again and then she closed them, shutting him off from whatever was inside. She swallowed hard and when she opened her eyes again, they were calm.

"I need the drug. Wesley." Her voice was now quite reasonable but with a touch of wheedling. "I don't want to listen to them any more."

Wes regarded her, trying to pick the next step. Obviously, something about the drug was making the souls inside her more lively. He was now positive that drugging her in the first place had been a mistake. There had been too many unknowns about the compound Fred created. It would be hard, but they would just have to find another way.

"No, Hannah." He said it in the flattest tone he could muster, steeling himself against pity. "You will get no more of the drug."

He was completely unprepared for her reaction. All that saved him were the few seconds it took her to jump, shrieking, to her feet and launch herself into the air across his desk. Reflexively, Wesley tipped the chair backwards and rolled clear just as Hannah careened through the empty space he had just occupied and collapsed to the floor.

She was twitching horridly, her eyes wide and empty, as she lay on the floor behind his desk. Wes sat up as quickly as he could, checking the back of his head for damage before turning his attention to her. She was uninjured as far as he could tell, but she thrashed about on the floor and moved closer to the legs of his desk.

As he scrambled across the floor to hold Hannah in place, Wesley heard the door open as Lorne and Gunn rushed in to see what the commotion was about. When they saw, they froze, staring at the scene before them in shock.

"What did you –" Lorne began.

"Later!" Wesley barked. "Come here and see if you can calm her down."

Wesley did not release Hannah, but shifted enough that Lorne could fit behind the desk with them and get close enough to touch her. As soon as his hands touched her face, she stilled and Wesley let her go. Hannah's eyes closed and her breathing returned to normal.

"Help me carry her upstairs?" Lorne asked Wesley, though everyone knew that Lorne could carry her by himself. Gunn righted the chair and began to set the desk in order as Wes and Lorne lifted Hannah and carried her out of the office.

When they got to the base of the staircase, Lorne took her in his arms and gestured for Wesley to precede him. They made their way up the stairs without saying anything, although Wes could tell that Lorne had something to say. Already, Wesley was wracking his brain, trying to come up with something that would explain Hannah's collapse. He would need to read the analysis of the drug again, that much was certain.

They entered Hannah's room and Lorne set her down on the bed. He pulled a blanket over her and sat down beside her. He ran a hand along the side of her face, looking wistful, but when he turned to Wesley, he was all business.

"We may have a problem."

"How do you mean?" Wes asked.

"I didn't need her to sing to catch it, it's broadcasting off of her in waves. It's like being stuck in a tidal bore." Lorne said cryptically. "When I touched her, everything went back to normal, but that person you were wrestling with? It wasn't her."

"What?"

"It was someone else."

------

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_I don't remember much of what life was like before the car crash. I remember playing outside and climbing trees and I remember my mother reading to me at night. I remember how it felt to eat jell-o and having it slide down your throat without chewing. I remember bits and pieces of a life, but nothing real or particularly meaningful._

_The lives that I remember now are more complete, but they are not my own. These people lived and died, and somewhere between here and eternity they got stuck in me. Those that deserved heaven never got there and those that deserved hell made a stop along the way. There are so many factions, I can feel them splinter. Some want out, whatever the cost, some are scared at where they'll be sent if they leave me and those that most deserve peace are those the least willing to hurt others to get it._

_There's a child and a mother and the brother of a king. There's a monster and a singer and a hundred more that haven't surfaced long enough for me to tell what they are. I wish I could know them better, but that way lies madness, I think. I have to defeat them all to defeat the worst of them and I have to make the best of them suffer to survive. They've lost their bodies long ago and I have first dibs on mine._

_I'd say it with more conviction if I thought it would make any difference._

------

The sun was high in the sky by the time Angel made his way up from the sewers. Cordelia and Fred had arrived just after Hannah's collapse and had been sitting with her while Lorne tracked down some contacts who dealt with mystical comas. Wesley and Gunn had been looking through books and Internet sites on the subject, but so far had met with little success.

Wes looked up and saw Angel enter the lobby. He called across the office to Gunn and the two of them went to meet him by the weapons cabinet. Angel fished around in the bottom drawer for a clean towel to wipe off the green bile that coated his sword and then set the sword in its place in the cabinet.

"What's up?" he asked, guessing from Wes' long face that it was nothing good.

"It's Hannah," Wesley said briefly. "If you'll let me get the others, I'll tell you what's happened."

As Wesley made his way towards the stairs, Lorne came in from the garden entrance and walked up the steps with him. He reported that he had found nothing useful. Wesley suggested that he sit with Hannah while Cordy and Fred came downstairs to hear what had happened and Lorne gratefully agreed.

Once the members of Angel Investigations had gathered in the lobby, Wes began to talk.

"As you know, Hannah has been using a drug with mystical properties to help control the souls within her," he began. He leaned back against the counter and put his arms on it, looking out at Fred and Gunn, who sat on the round sofa, and Cordy and Angel who perched on the stairs. "We knew that there was the potential for problems with the mystical aspects of the drug and Fred has been working hard to come up with something better."

Fred smiled weakly. Wesley knew she blamed herself for what was happening. He had spent a good portion of the morning trying to convince her that it wasn't her fault, but she still worried.

"Not only is the drug addictive, it seems to be making the other souls inside of Hannah stronger," Wes said.

"I should have seen that coming," Fred said in a small voice. "The whole principle of the drug is that it gives Hannah's soul enough strength to overcome the others. It only makes sense that they got stronger too."

"We were working quickly and we haven't really stopped working on it since Hannah arrived" Wesley said gently. He turned to Angel. "The souls are now strong enough to fight Hannah for her body. One of them attacked me this morning. Lorne sensed it, but it retreated as soon as he touched her. It seems that physical contact is the best way of reminding Hannah who she is."

"How long is that going to last?" Cordelia asked.

"We've taken Hannah off the drug, which means the other souls will begin asserting themselves again," Wesley said. "As far as I can tell, she will remain comatose until one of the souls gains supremacy over the others."

"What're we going to do about that?" Gunn asked.

"The souls inside of Hannah have no bodies of their own," Wesley reported. "There is no place we can send them except…out."

"You mean to heaven?" Fred asked.

"Or to hell," Angel said. "And those are the ones that are going to fight the hardest for her body."

"Essentially, yes," Wesley agreed. "We have to find a way to exorcise all the souls except her own from her body."

"So how do we find this exorcism spell?" Cordelia asked. "Because the last time we tried that it didn't go so well."

"This will be much more complicated than that one was," Wesley said solemnly. "And I like to think that I've become a stronger person since then. We all have, actually. I think any one of us could pull it off."

"Right," said Gunn. "But where do we look? You and I found nothing and Lorne came up empty too."

"I've heard rumours that there's a shaman who just moved in north of the city," Angel said slowly. "If they're true, he might be able to help us."

"That's not a lot," Cordy pointed out.

"No," admitted Wesley. "But it's the best we have so far."

He looked around the room at his friends and co-workers.

"All right, Angel, you take Gunn and Cordy and drive up north. By the time you get there, it will only be a little while until sunset and then you can visit the shaman. Fred, I would like you to stay here. You can continue your work in the lab. I'll stick with the books and see if I can't find something after all. Lorne, I imagine, won't leave Hannah's side, but we can spell him if he needs it."

Wesley's orders were met with nods from around the room. Angel and Gunn both removed favourite weapons from the cabinet, just in case, and followed Cordelia down to the sewer so that Angel could get out. Fred hesitated before entering her lab; Wes could almost see the guilt radiating off of her, but eventually she too went to work. Wesley made a brief trip up the stairs to tell Lorne what was being done and then retreated to his office and the piles of books on his desk.

On the counter top sat a pot of coffee, long gone cold, and two mugs, one with cream going sour in the bottom.

------

Cordelia returned to the car and slammed the door shut with a little more force than was absolutely necessary. She slumped down in her seat and pouted, which would have made Gunn laugh if the circumstances hadn't been so dire.

"What happened?" Angel asked. He had spent the last few hours in the well-shaded back seat of the car, under a blanket, waiting for the sun to set. "Is the shaman there?"

"Oh, he's there all right," Cordelia snarked. "All mystical and full of promises. But he only talks to people with 'true purpose'. As if having my head split open by the Powers four or five times a week isn't purposey enough!"

"We drove all this way for nothing?"

"No, silly. He'll only talk to you."

"Oh," said Angel. He sounded like he was fighting back a smile.

"Yes, Mr. I Have A Prophecy is good enough for the shaman. Everyone else has to stay in the car."

"We'll all have to stay in the car for a while," Gunn pointed out. "Until it gets dark enough that Purpose Boy here doesn't go up in flames as soon as he gets out."

------

Wesley knocked lightly on the door to Hannah's room and then entered. Lorne looked haggard; there was an ill-looking pinkish tinge to his cheeks, and he nodded hello to Wesley without turning his attention from Hannah. He held her hand, absently stroking the back of it, and Wesley knew that he wasn't just looking at her, he was looking into her.

"Any change?" Wes asked quietly.

"For the worse," Lorne said, his voice was deeply sad. "She's sinking further in. It's harder to see her. Nothing is coming up to replace her, it's just…empty. I can hear them in the background and they aren't getting much louder, but she's fading."

"We should hear from Angel and the others soon," Wesley said, putting a hand on the demon's shoulder. "They'll find something, I know it."

"Angels and ministers of grace defend us," Lorne said, looking back to Hannah's face. He kissed her hand.

"Always," said Wesley.

------

Angel opened the heavy oak door. Either the shaman wasn't human or whatever he'd said to Cordelia constituted an invitation, because Angel crossed the threshold without a problem. The air inside was thick with incense and candles lit a path down one of the hallways. Angel started to wipe his feet and then noticed a sign that requested he take off his shoes, so he complied.

He padded down the hall, following the candles, until he came to another heavy door. He knocked and it swung open. The room it revealed had a thick red carpet and the walls were paneled wood. There were paintings of saints' trials and beatifications on the walls and a fire burned in the hearth.

"Come in, Angel," said a deep voice. A figure rose from an overstuffed chair that faced the fire.

The shaman turned to face the door as Angel stepped into the room. He was tall and broad across the shoulders. His hood was pulled up over his head and cast shadows upon his face, but as far as Angel could sense he was human enough. He indicated a circle on the floor in the corner of the room and Angel walked towards it. They knelt across from one another and the shaman began to speak.

"You have come about the souls." The shaman reached down for a bag of bones and cast them into the circle. He studied them for a moment and seemed to like what he saw. "I can sense them. They grew silent for a time, but now they have returned and they clamour for freedom."

"We tried to help her," Angel said. "It didn't work out the way we'd planned."

"Your friend was right to try," the shaman said. "There is nothing earthy medicine can do for her, Angel."

"What else can we do, then?" Angel asked. "We have to do something or her soul will be lost."

"Souls are lost all the time. Why is this one any different?"

"Because she's fought to stay found," Angel answered after thinking for a moment. "Because she hasn't known peace in years and she deserves to."

"Very well," said the shaman. "I will tell you the ritual that you need to perform. But be warned: the girl Hannah can only be saved if she chooses to save herself. In the end, your help may not be enough."

"We'll still try," Angel said sincerely.

"Then this is what you must do."

As the shaman outlined the ritual, Angel's heart sank. It was complicated and long and, for all he knew, dangerous. But they would try it. He thanked the shaman and retrieved his shoes before heading back to the car.

Cordelia had moved to back seat, so Angel slid into the front when he returned. He put on his seatbelt slowly as Gunn started the car and drove out of the drive way.

"Did you get it?" Cordy asked.

"I did" Angel said heavily. "Pass me your cell. I need Fred to go out and pick up a few things. That way, we'll be all set when we get back."

"We in that much of a rush?" Gunn asked. Some of the stores they used for ingredients weren't places any of them liked to go alone.

"Yeah. I really think we are."

------

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_It was easier when I was asleep. Asleep, I didn't have to worry about walking and thinking, about carrying on conversations and pretending that everything was going to be okay. Instead, I could turn all my thoughts and, more importantly, all my instincts, to myself and thus keep me separate from the clamouring horde._

_Every now and then, one of them would try to surface, and sometimes I let it. Sometimes I didn't have a choice. But every time it happened, it was harder to put it away again, harder to reign supreme in my own domain. I knew that Lorne was there, and when he sang or if he touched me, it was easier to fight. He gave me something to hold on to._

_But I worried that in the end, it wouldn't be enough._

------

They first time that Hannah woke up, she knew who she was. She spoke to Wesley clearly in her own voice and by the time he got to the door to yell for Lorne, she was gone, replaced by a raving woman who cried and asked over and over for her daughter. Wesley couldn't tell her anything, so he took her hand instead. This calmed her a little and soon she swooned and fell back into the pillows.

From then on, Wes made sure that Lorne was always within hearing distance.

The second time Hannah woke up, her eyes opened slowly, like she was waking from a quiet dream on a hot summer morning. Wesley smiled, half with relief and half to encourage her to wake up the rest of the way. She blinked and her eyes changed. She cocked her head to the side as though trying to remember something important.

"Who are you?" It was Hannah's voice, but there was something different about it. She sounded younger and far more vulnerable than usual.

"My name is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," he said in his softest voice. "You've been a little sick. I've been helping you get better. Can you tell me your name?"

Hannah's brow furrowed.

"No," she said, still calm, "I can't. Isn't that strange?"

"It's probably because you've been ill," Wes said quickly. "It will all come back to you in time, I am sure."

Hannah nodded, seemingly accepting of her amnesia, and had just opened her mouth to speak again when Lorne walked into the room. He smiled and moved towards her, but whatever she had been about to say was lost in her scream.

"Hannah?" Wes asked sharply.

"What is that _thing_? Why is that monster here? Who the hell are you people?" she demanded.

Lorne fled as Wesley tried to restrain Hannah from running away.

"It's all right. It's all right."

Wes tried frantically to think of an explanation, but before he could, Hannah's body seized. She arched up off of the bed and then threw her arms and legs out, smacking Wes across the face. When she stilled, her face slackened and she fell back into unconsciousness.

------

The third time Hannah awoke, Lorne carefully faced the window so she wouldn't see his face until he knew who she was. Wesley had gone downstairs to help Fred with a spell, and despite Lorne's assurances that they would be fine, he was worried. The sound of her voice saying his name put his fears to rest. He turned, then came and sat beside her on the bed.

"Hey." Green hands enfolded her own pale ones.

"Hey."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm awake," she replied. "I remember yelling at Wesley and then…nothing. I have a headache and I feel really…odd."

"It's the souls," Lorne said calmly, squeezing her hands. "Fred and Wes are working downstairs and the others went to find some shaman."

"And once again, I am the distraction."

"I don't mind being distracted." He smiled at her, then said thoughtfully, "You know, maybe if you sang for me, I could help you myself."

"Maybe."

He remembered her smile afterwards. He saw it in his nightmares.

"_How can you see into my eyes like open doors?_

_Leading you down into my core,_

_Where I've become so numb_..."

Something was terribly wrong. This was Hannah's voice and part of it was Hannah's soul, but something shone behind her, a light so evil that Lorne could not comprehend it, but so brilliant that he could not look away.

"_Without a soul_

_My spirit sleeping somewhere cold_

_Until you find it there and lead it back_

_Home_."

The evil flashed in Hannah's eyes, locking his gaze with hers. The light of the alien aura burned itself into his skull, but he stayed beside her, helplessly entranced by the depth and darkness in her voice.

"_Wake me up inside_

_Wake me up inside_

_Call my name and save me from the dark_

_Bid my blood to run_

_Before I come undone_

_Save me from the nothing I've become_."

It wasn't Hannah. He knew that with more clarity than he's ever known anything in his entire life. It's too loud and too violent. So much power has been repressed for so much time and now it's boiling into his ears and into his eyes and into his mind and he cannot block her out. He tried to reach for her, to make her stop, but the distance between them is suddenly too great and he fell away from her.

"_Now that I know what I'm without_

_You can't just leave me here_

_Breathe into me and make me real_

_Bring me_

_To Life."_

It's Hannah's voice and Hannah's gift, but it wasn't Hannah's soul. This was old and evil and it mocked him, taking joy in his pain. His ears bled and his hands could do nothing to block the sound. The power of her voice resonated in his bones and he writhed in agony upon the floor.

"_Wake me up inside_

_Wake me up inside_

_Call my name and save me from the dark_

_Bid my blood to run_

_Before I come undone_

_Save me from the nothing I've become. _

_Bring me to life..."_

Lorne finally abandoned her, something he swore he would never do again. He left her alone to face the demon by herself because he was powerless to meet it on its own ground. He crawled towards the door, propelled as much by the power of her voice as his own desire to remove himself from its presence.

"_Frozen inside without your touch_

_Without your love, darling_

_Only you are the life among the dead"_

Lorne cursed the day this song was written, cursed the day the singer was born. He cursed himself for leaving Pylea and cursed the irony and cruelty of the lyrics. He knew that she had chosen this song on purpose, the better to cause him as much pain as possible and his attempt to escape became more frantic.

"_All of this time I can't believe I couldn't see_

_Kept in the dark, but you were right in front of me_

_I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems_

_Got to open my eyes to everything_

_Without a voice, without a thought, without a soul_

_Don't let me die here,_

_There must be something more_

_Bring me to life..."_

If only she had stopped singing, even to breathe, he could have acted. He could have knocked her out or fled the room. But she didn't. Whatever was inside her didn't need to breathe.

"_Wake me up inside_

_Wake me up inside_

_Call my name and save me from the dark_

_Bid my blood to run_

_Before I come undone_

_Save me from the nothing I've become_.

"_Bring me to life..._

_I've been living a lie_

_There's nothing inside_

_Bring me_

_To life..."_

The spell was broken as the final words fell from her lips. He gained the door and slammed it behind him, collapsing in the hallway and the blood pooled out from around his head. He screamed for Wes. The song was over, but he could hear her laugh.

------

The fourth time Hannah woke quickly, her eyes flashing, and Wesley knew right away that it wasn't her. The eyes were too dark, too cold.

"Watcher." She almost spat it out, like somehow she knew of his disgrace. "She will never get this body back."

"We have six highly trained and experienced professionals working around the clock to ensure that you and your little friends never see the light of day." Wesley hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. "Hannah will be back."

She laughed, a horrible high pitched keen of a laugh, and for an instant, Wesley understood a fraction of Lorne's pain. The demon was downstairs with Fred, barely able to hear words spoken at conversational volume and feeling entirely useless.

"If you'd like her back, I'll give her to you, the thing offered.

As Wesley watched in growing horror, Hannah's own hands locked around her throat. She began to gasp for air.

"Wesley! Wesley, please! Help me." It was Hannah's voice. Her eyes lightened as she spoke before darkening from lack of oxygen.

"No."

"Wesley, please!" Her eyes begged him and he hardened his heart. "Make him stop!"

"No."

"I'll kill her, Watcher." The other voice took over, but Hannah's eyes remained her own.

"You won't." Wesley tried to look anywhere but Hannah's darkening face, to hear anything but her desperate gasps. "You need her body as much as I do."

"Damn you!"

The hands released and Hannah's head lolled back upon the pillow. Her face regained its normal colour and Wesley made no attempt to touch her or aid her recovery. He merely watched.

After a few moments, Hannah's breathing returned to normal, and her eyes drifted shut again plunging her mercifully back into oblivion.

A knock on the door made Wesley jump. He turned to see Fred.

"Angel just called," she said quietly. "He's sending me out to pick up some ingredients we're going to need. Will you be okay?"

Wesley looked back at Hannah's limp figure on the bed, and rubbed his eyes before meeting Fred's gaze again.

"Hurry," was all he said.

------

TBC...

AN: "Bring Me To Life" is not mine. Obviously.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_The Circle is drawn._

_They know it somehow, even though I am upstairs unconscious and The Circle is in the lobby. It's not even really drawn, it's just placed and waiting for activation, but they know. _

_It makes them scared. This makes me happy. I have been scared for a long time and The Circle will make it quiet forever._

_If it works._

------

"_Orbis extrahatur_," Wesley intoned in a measured voice.

The circular couch in the middle of the Hyperion lobby was surrounded by white candles, the only beacons against the California night. Wesley had just lit the last of them and retreated to stand with the others in front of the counter. Cordelia stepped forward with a jar of Holy Water. Walking clockwise, she flicked droplets of water on the floor, carefully avoiding the candles. When she reached her starting point, she faced the centre of the circle.

"_Orbis extrahatur_," she declared in a firm voice, and then retreated.

Fred stepped forward next, carrying a bowl of crushed herbs mixed with white sand. She let the mixture slip through her fingers as she walked counterclockwise around the candles, her hands coated first with the sticky sweet essence of crushed herbs and then with sand. She reached the beginning and swallowed hard to find her voice.

"_Orbis extrahatur_."

Finally, Gunn stepped forward. He carried a burning sage roll. The smell of it made his eyes water and he looked away. He knelt in front of the circle and set the flame next to the herbs that Fred had deposited. They ignited, and fire spread out in both directions, surrounding the circle of fire and water with fire again. He got to his feet.

"_Orbis extrahatur_," he said, and returned to wait with the others.

In the basement, Angel could hear their feet upon the floor. The shaman told him that he could not be present for this. Aside from the fact that Hannah might steal his soul if things went ill, the shaman believed that the undead had no right participating in such a holy spell. Angel heard the stairs creak and knew that Lorne was entering the room and decided that there was no power on Earth that would make him risk tonight's working. He sat down and put his head in his hands, unable to do anything but wait.

Lorne came down the stairs towards the flaming rings in the middle of the floor carrying Hannah in his arms. She was unconscious still, but she muttered and twitched in his arms, at war even now. He looked right, towards Wesley and the others, then fixed his gaze forward and set himself for what was to come.

Lorne took a deep breath and stepped through the flames. He walked to the sofa and set Hannah down on top of it, pushing her into a sitting position. He knelt behind her on the seat, supporting her, and they looked across the fire to Wes.

"_Orbis extrahatur_!" Lorne declared, and the power in the room started to move.

It was dark at first, so dark that looking at it was like falling into forever. It stalked through the room, searching. It circled the rings of fire, blocking then from everyone but Lorne and the still unconscious Hannah. In the darkness, Wesley reached behind him for the sword he had placed there for emergencies. His fingers tightened on the hilt.

The darkness moved in on Hannah. It passed through the fire, through the water and through the fire again, bearing down on her with a singleminded purpose. Lorne bit the side of his mouth to keep from crying out, but the shadow went through him like he was nothing.

Hannah gasped and sat up straight of her own accord. Her inhalation sucked the darkness towards her. It came fast and furious, almost whistling through the air and threw itself into her mouth. Hannah's mouth opened wider as she swallowed the darkness whole, and then she slumped back into Lorne's arms.

For a second, all was quiet. The sounds of traffic from the street were muted by the power they had conjured forth, and all that remained were the candles and the ring of fire, sputtering in the darkness.

It happened on the edge of their hearing, except for Lorne, who heard it howling in the night, a sound of approach, of a mad dash for freedom. The roar grew and the flames leapt higher, causing the watchers to flinch from the sudden spears of light. The noise rattled in their bones and sang in their blood. The very air hummed with it and the candlelight danced to the rhythm.

Hannah began to shake. Lorne struggled to hold her in place and her head arched backwards. Her eyes opened, shining with something supernatural in the darkness, and rolled back, revealing the whites to all in the room. Her body seized and the darkness began to pour out of her.

The sounds in the room changed. There was still an urgency of forward movement, but happy laughter and the singing voices of dozens of people in many different languages singing a myriad of different songs of rejoicing filled the air. Lorne gasped as he took it in, as he took _them_ in, as they escaped their prison and reached outwards for the light.

The darkness grew lighter as it spun about the room. The volume of the music increased and the laughter rang throughout the decrepit hotel. Faster and faster it spun, the candles and ring of fire flaring it its wake. The four standing at the counter ducked instinctively as the whirling power careened through the room. Suddenly, with one glorious note of pure joy, the light flared up towards the ceiling and disappeared. Hannah collapsed into Lorne's arms as the room plunged back into darkness.

------

For a full minute, no one said anything, and even breathing seemed too loud.

"Wesley?" Fred breathed softly as their eyes readjusted to the dim light of the candles and the ring of flame.

"Nobody move," Wes said quickly, his fingers not loosening their grip upon the hilt of his sword.

"What happened?" asked Cordelia in an unusually awed tone.

"The good souls have been taken," Wesley explained. "They're gone."

"So what's left is – " Cordy began.

"Yes," said Wesley, "The evil ones. This battle is not over yet."

"Bring it on, then," said Gunn.

"It may not be our fight."

Lorne moved carefully and craned his neck so that he could see Hannah's face. It was pale in the candlelight, but she seemed unharmed. Her hair had fallen into her face and he pulled it behind her ears. He kissed her lightly on the temple and pressed his face into her neck. Her life force was strong; too strong, he knew. She was not the only one in there, and those left with her had no mercy. From the corner of his eyes, he saw a bright white light appear in the lobby. He braced himself and held her in place again.

The light stalked the room as the darkness had done. Everywhere it went, a sharp cold followed. Fred slipped her hand into Gunn's and he squeezed it reassuringly, wishing for an axe. The light bore down upon them and seemed to regard them with a haughty air. Fred looked at the floor and Gunn looked elsewhere. Cordelia met its gaze and faltered, unsure of what was to come, but Wesley never flinched.

The light moved on, circling the fires and making them seem pale and wan in comparison. It drew its noose about the ring and then moved inward, parts of it reaching forward as it tightened, like jagged edges of reaching ice, grasping at what lay within.

Lorne closed his eyes, but the light burned him anyway. As it passed through him he knew pain and suffering, a thousand ways to spend eternity and each one worse than the last. He pitied the light's prey, then remembered the woman in his arms and pushed all thoughts but those of her from his mind.

This time, Hannah screamed. The light forced its way into her, pushing her mouth open and holding it despite her attempts to make it stop. She choked and coughed, and still the light moved into her throat, relentless in its attack. Again, Hannah slumped in Lorne's arms and again there was silence, but they all braced themselves for the shrieking they knew was to come.

And come it did.

The noise was beyond noise. Where the dark had been a comforting presence in their bones and blood, the light sought to rend them. It hunted for the evil in Hannah's body and it cared not who it took along with them. Fred collapsed into Gunn and the two of them fell hard against the wooden paneling of the counter. Cordy, used to blinding headaches, stumbled forward until Wesley caught her and pulled her back. He lowered them both to the floor, and tried to shield them from the horrific noise.

In the basement, Angel lay upon the floor, writhing in pain as his sensitive hearing amplified the sounds from the floor above. He had been to hell once, and hell was nothing compared to this.

Within the circle, Lorne was frozen in agony. All around him, souls shrieked. They cried out of their innocence, they pleaded for mercy, but the light was relentless. Judgment had been passed upon them already and now their centuries of hiding were done. The light had come to claim them, and claim them it would.

A voice, strangely calm in all the cacophony, sounded near Lorne's pounding head.

"What will be the cost of this body?"

"I…I don't know." Hannah said. The voice was her own, and she was terrified.

"They cannot last much longer."

Hannah looked out of the circle and saw that it was true. Fred and Gun huddled together in agony and Cordy and Wes suffered alone beside one another, reaching out occasionally as though to make sure the other was still there and hoping that they were not. She couldn't turn to see Lorne, but she knew that whatever it was doing to her friends, it was doing far worse to her lover.

"What must I do?"

"End this. End it now and all undeserved suffering will cease."

Somehow, in his world of pain, Lorne found his voice.

"No!" he cried.

She was crying now, still unable to turn to him. His hands were locked around her, holding her in place in spite of the sound and the pain.

"There is no other way." She sighed as though seeing something familiar and long forgotten, as though she was returning home. "I love you."

He couldn't answer. The noise was too great. She broke away from his grip and he howled in pain as he cast about for her. The light grew brighter and the sound increased, but the chaos of noise receded and a harmony began to appear in the void. The light flared again and the voices of a thousand damned souls screamed for one last reprieve before they were silenced in this plane for eternity.

The candles and the ring of fire flared up one last time, illuminating Lorne, as he stood alone in the centre of the Circle, and then the flames went out, plunging the room at last into an earthly darkness.

------

TBC...


	5. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

There wasn't a body to bury, but there was a room to pack up. Hannah didn't have very much, just odds and ends she'd borrowed from Cordelia and a few small gifts from Lorne. She'd gone through all the rooms in the hotel looking for paintings she liked and put extra hooks in the walls for them. The drapes had been heavy and she'd removed them so that only the gauzy curtains remained. She'd told him that she liked the light, even if it meant that her host had to be doubly careful when he entered her room.

The bed was unmade. Lorne was the first person to be in the room since he'd carried her down stairs for the ritual that morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago and Lorne felt old and drained. The sheets were cold, but they smelled of her and the evening breeze wafted the curtains towards the bed like wisps of fog.

He could feel her in the room still, he was certain of it. He, more than anyone else, knew exactly what had happened at the end of the ritual. He had _seen_ it. She hadn't died, she had transcended, gone beyond death to whatever glory lay beyond. But she lingered in this room and he could smell her in the air.

He smiled sadly and picked up the pillows that had fallen to the floor during one of Hannah's attacks on herself. He tossed it on the bed, their bed, and began to sing.

"_You said when you'd die that you'd walk  
with me everyday  
And I'd start to cry and say please don't talk that way  
With the blink of an eye the lord came  
and asked you to leave  
You went to a better place but He stole you  
away from me"  
_

Mechanically, he pulled the sheets into place, smoothing them out and covering them with the quilt. Hannah loved the warmth of California. It was so different from the institutional cold from where she'd been kept all those years. There had been a duvet on the bed when she moved it, but she got rid of it almost immediately, claiming that it was too heavy for the climate.

"_And now she lives in heaven  
But I know they let her out  
To take care of me_

_There's a strange kind of light  
Caressing me tonight  
Pray silence my fears she is near  
Bringing heaven down here"  
_

Lorne crossed the room slowly and opened the closet. There were boxes in the hallway, but now that he saw what was left of her, the things that he could touch and keep, he couldn't think of putting those last trinkets away. Such a life to have left so little, and most of it borrowed at that.

"_I miss your love I miss your touch  
But I'm feeling you everyday  
And I can almost hear you say  
"You've come along way baby""_

Suddenly, the feeling that overcame him when he entered the room got stronger. She wasn't lingering anymore, she was _here_. He knew it as well as he knew he was alive. He turned around slowly, unwilling to see her if only to lose her again, but unable to pass up the temptation to look at her one time. Her smile was like the sun rise, and he knew very well that it was night, but he walked toward her all the same._  
_

"_And now you live in heaven  
But I know they let you out  
To take care of me"  
_

He stopped in front of her and cautiously extended a hand towards her. She didn't move, but smiled, that smile she used when he was afraid and she thought it was silly. Her hair was in her face, and, steeling himself, he reached out to brush it behind her ear. His hand moved across her face and she turned toward it. He could feel her breath as his hand slid down her neck to her shoulder and then down her arm to her hand. Her fingers, her warm and solid fingers, met his and they locked together. He would never let go.

"_There's a strange kind of light  
In my bedroom tonight  
Prayer silence my fears she is near  
Bring your heaven down here"_

He reached for her with his other hand, pulling her close. His hands ghosted up and down her arms, through her hair and along her spine. He was determined to make sure she was real and equally determined that he was going to be disappointed to find out that she was not.

You taught me kings and queens  
While stroking my hair  
In my darkest hour I know you are there  
Kneeling down beside me  
Whispering my prayer

Her hands began their own quest, starting at his horns and moving down. He felt her fingers against his skin and wondered how this could possibly be happening. He saw her die. He saw her _leave_. And she came back. Her eyes locked with his and he decided that he didn't care anymore. She was there. And for now, that was enough.

Yes there's a strange kind of light  
Caressing me tonight  
Pray silence my fear  
She is near  
Bringing heaven down here

He didn't remember getting to the bed or taking off any of their clothes, but he knew what happened after that. It was seared into his mind, into his skin, forever. Gone was the scared but stubborn girl and gone was the worrisome demon always afraid that he would hurt her. Their joining this time was deeper than before and he knew that she could see his soul as clearly as he could see hers. He had never felt this much in his entire life and he knew that she hadn't either. When the souls faded from a blinding light to a normal pulse and they were both breathing hard, he pulled her on to his chest and kissed the top of her head, like he had not enough before.

_  
The next time that we meet  
I will bow at her feet  
And say wasn't life sweet  
Then we'll prepare  
To take heaven down there_

He woke to her mouth on his, and he placed his hands on her hips to roll them over one last time.

The morning breeze blew the light curtains of Hannah's room towards the bed like wisps of fog. Lorne lay on his stomach, alone, and cried demon tears for departed souls.

------

**finis**

GravityNotIncluded, October 2003-May 2007

AN: I need to thank a few people. First, inlovewithnight for the beta. She did a wonderful job, particularly in this last chapter, changing the story from what I saw in my head to something that was also visible on paper. I can't thank her enough. And to eolivet, who betaed the first three parts and wait oh so patiently for the end of the story. She has been my friend longer than I have been writing this. And that is saying something. :)

Oh, and "Nan's Song" is by Robbie Williams


End file.
